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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532891">Strange and Beautiful</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonluster/pseuds/Luna_Leclair'>Luna_Leclair (Moonluster)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Philosophy, Short Story, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:15:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonluster/pseuds/Luna_Leclair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rating for brief mention of smoking/vaping. <br/>An indeterminate narrator has an experience that makes them rethink reality and the truth of life itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Strange and Beautiful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>11:42. I cannot sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep since I “went to bed” two and a half hours ago. I gaze into the soft, blue glow of my phone. Refreshing all of my social media, again and again, is a fruitless task. Everyone I know is asleep. I fucking wish I could do the same. At the same time, I’m dreading my physical presence, and my inability to function as a normal human being. I’m a nonproducer sometimes, I swear. On a whim, I decided to go on a late-night adventure. Maybe something good might come of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before I head out, I check the weather through a glance out my window. There are streaks of water running down the glass, with lights streaming in from other buildings all around amongst the cloaked darkness of evening, which creates a bokeh-like scene before me. <br/><br/>“Hmm. Guess I’m gonna get soaked.” I sigh to myself as I bring the curtains together again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I throw on a hoodie and say goodbye to my cat, who chirps back at me with big eyes that gleam in the dim lighting of my residence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Down the stairs, and making a right turn onto the street, I’m immediately met with a chilly breeze that annoyingly blows locks of my hair into my face, and cold, sudden raindrops that tickle my skin, along with the smell of a sweet, yet sickly cloud of a cotton-candy vape cloud trail left by someone who is now disappearing off into the distance ahead of me. I don’t know where I’m going, but I figure a late-night snack might do the trick to get me motivated. I proceed to start strolling, determined to enjoy the scenery around me.I pull my bangs behind my ears inside of my hoodie so I can get a better view of my surroundings, a little overwhelmed by the roaring of the cars whizzing by me in a flurry of lights and honking. I can barely hear my thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the first block, I come to a crosswalk. The ‘Do Not Walk’ hand signal beseeches me to heed its command. Idly, I note the endless stream of vehicles racing before me, accompanied by pungent, unpleasant scents of gasoline, oil, diesel, smoky fumes, and the continuous noise of the engines of various vehicles. As I wait, I notice the gleam of puddles by my feet, with ripples dancing on the surface and reflecting the glow of the warm overhead lights that perforate the atmosphere all around me. I smile quietly at the beauty of the sight, and a feeling, somewhere between loneliness and wonder, fills me. Everything feels so busy, yet so lonely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light changes, signaling that I’m allowed to cross, and I do so in a quick-paced jog, slowing back to a stroll again once I’ve passed. I briefly turn my attention to the other side of the street, and notice varying silhouettes of shadowy beings that I assume are people, walking at a similar pace to mine; some faster, some slower. I wonder for a moment what they might be thinking, and realize that their lives, just like mine, are just as complex. These people have stories, experiences, emotions, all of which they only know for themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I pass by on the sidewalk, I notice the faint smell of cigarette smoke, which mixes with the dirty smell of the city, washed down by the earthly perfume of the rain that is falling. A thought expresses itself from deep within my conscience and seems to echo quietly: This world is so much bigger and brighter than I am. Just like the people I’ve seen, I am nothing more than a transient being, existing in a liminal space, in a state of transition, forever. Everything, everyone, is here one minute on this planet, in this plane of existence, and then they’re gone in the next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t long before I realize that I’m closing in on my destination, and I spot the sign for the bus line. There appears to be another patron waiting there. I hope they don’t try to talk to me. I’m not really in the mood right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I slow my pace and find a proper distance to stand from them. Like me, they have their head covered by a hoodie or hooded coat of some sort. I notice, from the corner of my eye, that they have shifted their position to face me somewhat. I turn away from them a little, not wanting to seem conversational.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m slightly pipped when, to my luck, they start speaking...presumably, to me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” I take note that their voice doesn’t sound...human? Yet there isn’t anything threatening about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” I answer, feeling awkward and slightly wary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cities are marvelous human inventions.” The person...or, thing, continued to muse aloud, their tone warm and friendly, “so much order and yet so much chaos in their nature, reflected in their creations.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I say nothing in response, hoping they’ll get the message that I’m not one for conversation, even though what they’re saying slightly intrigues me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a beat of silence between us before they start again, “One thing I marvel at, especially, is the way that the traffic lights blink in different colors, and exist on and on as long as the street does. Sometimes, to the point, you can’t see it anymore! What do they call it...a vanishing point? Yes, that’s what it is. So many that they cease to exist.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, but they always look like that.” I accidentally chime in, and quickly shut my mouth, pursing my lips as to quiet myself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They chuckle, seemingly amused, “It may seem that way to you, but to those individuals who have never seen it before or are not used to seeing them, they can see the beauty and artistry behind it all. Chaos...and order.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why does this person keep going on about chaos and order? I wondered and then asked aloud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Well, does it not make sense that everything humans create is a reflection of their very nature? Even these skyscrapers,” they gesture, and I end up turning to follow their slender, delicate movements. <br/><br/>“They too have a sort of orderly chaos. Do you see those brightly colored lights that are both on and off, in a uniform way? Window panes that are all the same size, lines that shape the building itself that are not completely straight, as to give some sense of distinction...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They trail off, seemingly lost in their marveling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay...but what does that have to do with humanity in general? People are usually messy, and sometimes they’re ugly.” I reply, now invested in this exchange. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They turn to me, their face was hidden between their hood and the shadows produced between the lights, “Ugly in their hearts, and messy in their methods, yes. They don’t know how to communicate without hurting the people they care for, despite their best efforts. The streets they’ve built, as you can see,” they use one hand to point to a nearby pothole in the road, “eventually crack and require repair. The streetlights, as brilliant as they are, also burn out and need replacing.” <br/><br/>They bring their arm to their chest, and their voice fills with emotion that, as far as I can tell, prepares to express a heartfelt notion, “but these things do not necessarily make them bad. The desire to do good, and to be good, whatever that looks like to them, is prevalent in all individuals. As is the desire to survive. What they do is mainly in the name of self-preservation, even if they do not need to be preserved, and instead, could afford to be more vulnerable, and kinder to themselves and others.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m enraptured by their wisdom, but I do have a question, “You speak as if you know humanity, yet are not one of us...” <br/><br/>I think they knew I was going to ask ‘what are you?’ because they put an arm up and hold what I assume is a finger up, and gently interrupt me, “Ah, yet another mystery. I do know humanity...quite well. I’m merely an observer, and you have indulged my curiosity for the ‘eve.” <br/><br/>They chuckle and continue before I can open my mouth to speak, “it’s humorous; every time I think I have you all figured out, I find myself yet again surprised by what you’re capable of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I frown, and before I can retort, I hear the familiar puffing and roaring of the bus coming down the street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is where I leave you.” The creature takes a few steps back, appearing to bow ever so slightly. I can feel their eyes on me, and my spine shivers. “Remember to remain humble, kind, vulnerable, and to always appreciate the fleeting beauty that is life.” They turn on their heels and stroll quickly off into the rainy evening, their coat flapping slightly behind them as they go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stare at them incredulously, sure that my mouth is hung open like a gasping fish, as the bus slows to a stop beside the curb at the designated spot. I can’t help but fixate my eyes onto the spot that the mysterious figure has gone, distracted as I find my bus pass, and take a seat inside the warm bus. As the vehicle starts to move, I try to look for the individual on the sidewalk, but they’re gone. They seem to have completely vanished.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning away from the window, I stare wide-eyed at nothing as I try to process what happened, and a thought crosses my mind: life is both strange and beautiful. Maybe I don’t need to understand what just occurred. Maybe, like, the shrouded creature told me, I should appreciate the fleeting artistry that life can be.</span>
</p>
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